Kindergarten

When Drew was 5, I saw him as a big kid who was totally ready to head off to kindergarten. Indeed, he was. Now I see kindergarten students and they look so little. If you told they were in preschool, I would completely accept that as truth. Lugging backpacks that hang to their knees, they look too young to be institutionalized.

Megan is old enough to be one of them this year but she is still home. The truth is, I am terrified of making her part of the machine. Only I know my child. Even the best teacher could not possibly be as vested as I am in her success. And most teachers... Don't get me started. And I perceive Megan as my child who could most easily slip between the cracks.

But she can't wait to be a kindergartener. She wants to be with peers all day. She asks me every day if she can ride the bus next year. She pesters me to join the older two for lunch so that she can eat in the cafeteria and enjoy the playground. She wants to know if Tim and I will eat with her next year.

I think that I would feel better if she were reading already. But she's not. And here is that pesky double edged sword. They. Will. Begin. At. The. Beginning. Then I will complain that they always teach to the slowest child in the class and lose many hours of sleep plotting ways to force them to group by ability.

I hope that this is just part of my mid-year mental assessment of their education and the ensuing crisis that I inevitably enter. I will register her next month.

And speaking of registering, I have a parent's meeting to attend next week at the Middle School. That's right, my ready-for-kindergarten first born son is going to middle school. When did that happen? Perhaps that will put a bit more perspective on kindergarten.